


The Drain in the Bathroom Hides All the Secrets

by Flanemoji



Series: Beverly & Eddie vs. The World [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drabble, Implied Sexual Abuse, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, implied emotional abuse, rated t for the implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-31 08:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21125324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flanemoji/pseuds/Flanemoji
Summary: There’s a special sort of safety to be found in the bathtub at 2:47 AM. It’s indescribable to most; the way the silence wraps around, the ambient noise that filters through the window. The cold tiles shocking against his skin and the way he can curl his knees, close to his chest, and feel tight and cramped and small.Sometimes, though, the silence shifts from comforting to constricting. It coils too tight, makes his ribs curl in and his heart beat loud and fast. He feels wound tight, lonely, cornered like a trapped animal, and he knows he needs to hear a voice, tether himself to reality again.It’s in those times that there’s only one other person he can trust.





	The Drain in the Bathroom Hides All the Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> So what's up, this is my very first time posting something to this site, and my very first piece of work for this fandom!! Not super exciting, but I wanted to feed myself and my friends on the fact that Bev & Eddie rly be like.... best friends with intimacy issues and emotionally manipulative parents.
> 
> So enjoy! It's short, and the references to any sort of abuse are vague. Still, keep the tags in mind and be safe :,)

There’s a special sort of safety to be found in the bathtub at 2:47 AM. It’s indescribable to most; the way the silence wraps around, the ambient noise that filters through the window. The cold tiles shocking against his skin and the way he can curl his knees, close to his chest, and feel tight and cramped and _small_.

It’s pretty pathetic, in his opinion, but there’s no judgement here, in the dark. 

Sometimes, though, the silence shifts from comforting to constricting. It coils too tight, makes his ribs curl in and his heart beat loud and fast. He feels wound tight, lonely, cornered like a trapped animal, and he knows he needs to hear a voice, tether himself to reality again. 

It’s in those times that there’s only one other person he can trust. 

With only the moonlight slotting in through the curtains, Eddie stares at the phone on the floor. He’s dragged it in here, connected the cables where he can. He knows his mother has long since been asleep, and the woman couldn’t be woken by a natural disaster once she closes her eyes. 

Even the click of the buttons makes him anxious; he feels like every noise echoes throughout his house, rumbles through the walls. By the first ring, he’s already got one finger on the hang-up button, ready for a quick out. 

But she answers, and everything wound tight in him unfurls, goes boneless. He doesn’t bother hiding the sigh of relief. 

The sympathetic noise from the other end tugs something in him, pricks sharply behind his eyes, and before he knows it, he’s laying down in the tub, phone pressed tightly to his cheek. His voice is watery when he finally speaks. “I guess it’d be weird to start with ‘good morning’ huh?”

Beverly laughs, but it’s that sad, worried kind she has when he tries to joke. “One of those nights, isn’t it?” 

He muffles a laugh behind his hand, nodding before he clears his throat to speak. “Not the worst I’ve had, but pretty up there, if I’m being honest Bevvie. I just.... needed to hear someone.” 

He hears rustling on the other end of the line while Bev gets comfortable. “Well your someone is right here, babe. Tell your Auntie Bevvie all about it.” Her tone is light and airy, but he knows she’s genuine. 

“Ugh,” Eddie rolls his eyes, smiling at the ceiling. “Don’t call yourself my auntie, you’re only like, what, three months older than me?” 

“Old enough,” she interjects, but doesn’t continue the thought. 

There’s that silence again, the type that sits on him like a safety blanket, so different from the boa constrictor strangling him only a few minutes ago. He doesn’t know what to say just yet, so he focuses on her breathing, on the little crackles in the phone line. He's mulling over what to open with, what would make him sound less awful than he actually feels, but she starts before he can.

“Are you in the bathtub tonite?” Bev is gentle, but the weight of the question sits heavily. They both know what it means, when they seek this type of sanctuary. 

He nods, clears his throat again, but his voice is still wet. “I had to.... I tried to go to sleep, I really did. But I got under the covers.... and everything was too much. The sheets, the pillows... all of it... _touching me_...” his voice cracks then, and he takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I know, honey, I know, it’s okay.” Bev is so comforting, so understanding. “I’ll stay with you until you’re ready, alright?” 

Eddie wishes she could be here, wishes he could stand to handle one of her tight hugs, her strong shoulder squeezes. He knows if she was here, she wouldn’t touch him. She’d sit just close enough, smile bright, talk about everything and nothing to distract him. She'd leave her hand within reaching distance, so that when he was ready, he could grab it, could readjust to the feeling of someone else without that sickly, slimy feeling all over him. 

Beverly is the only person who knows this feeling, who gets it without needing an explanation. Richie and the other Losers, they're sympathetic, understanding. The others give him distance, joke about his issues with germs and touching and space. Richie invades his boundaries, breaks them while building new, protective walls around them. He pushes and pushes but never pushes too much, something Eddie will never be able to understand. 

But Bev.... she’s the only one who _knows_, who doesn’t need more than a look to understand when it’s too close, too much. She’s the only one he can confide in right now, because he doesn’t have to go into the details. She’s felt those too long touches, those threatening embraces. She knows what hides behind the “worry” and the “care” and the “love”. 

Sometimes, they talk about it. They huddle close to the phone in the dark and whisper through their hiccups about the lingering hands, the kisses that can’t be scrubbed off. They talk through their near silent tears about how they can’t erase the feeling, can't close their eyes and rest because it just never leaves. 

But tonite, Eddie can’t. It’s already teetering on too much just to be on the phone, to hear her sympathetic murmurs. He feels weak and stupid and dirty. 

He doesn’t realize that he’s crying until his cheeks are wet against the porcelain of the tub, and once it hits him, it’s like a waterfall. It’s quiet, save for his breathy hitches and sniffles (because he and Bev have perfected the art of crying quietly, unnoticed.) She lets him, whispering a little ‘it’s alright’ and ‘let it out’ every few minutes, until he’s all cried out, dry and snotty and aching. He talks before his brain even has time to process what he’s asking. 

“Bev.... will we ever be normal?” 

It’s a loaded question. There’s nothing normal about them; they're at the bottom of the food chain in their town, they’ve been traumatized by a murderous clown-entity, and their parents treat them like won possessions. Eddie asks anyway, though, because he needs confirmation that things will be okay. That one day he can hold someone’s hand for longer than a few moments without feeling his skin crawl. That the days where he can stand to be touched at all will outnumber the days he can’t even fathom it. 

There’s a pause on the other line while she thinks over her answer. He’s patient, because Bev won’t lie to him, not even to make him feel better. Her reply is steadying, just like he expected it to be. 

“.... We’ll always have each other.” 

The next morning, at school, he gives her the biggest hug he can manage. Everyone giggles when they catch Bev’s little kiss to his forehead. Richie jokes that he’d better learn to fight if he’s gonna get between Bill and Bev and Ben. Stan tells everyone he has math questions that are more important than teenage antics, and everyone moves on. 

But Eddie sticks close to Bev, because she knows, she understands, and she makes the day go by as normal as it can be.

**Author's Note:**

> Wowza! Thank u for readin' my short lil thing... drop a line if u liked it :0 I'm hoping to post more lil things revolving around there cutie friendship.


End file.
